Page 22

“Vetting a date.” He holds out his hands, mimicking a scale. “Catfishing people pretending to be a fifty-plus male.” He drops the hand that holds my metaphorical situation.

Never in my life have I wanted to smash someone’s face between my hands so bad. “Like you care or would understand.”

“Humor me,” he says. “I’m asking because I’m curious.”

“Like I was curious what really went down with Chloe?”

A shadow crosses over his face. I blink and it’s gone. “Different situations. Maybe if you share a little about yourself, I’d do the same.”

“Too bad for you I don’t share the same curiosity.”

When I try to move, he blocks my way. “Then think of it as me getting out of your way quicker. Fight me and prolong the suffering you seem to go through when having more than a thirty-second conversation with me.”

“Oh my God.” I shove my hair from my face. “Fine. I’m worried about my dad, okay? He’s getting older, and I’ll be gone to Harvard soon, and then he’ll be all alone. I want someone to take care of him when I’m gone.”

He frowns. “It sounds like you want more of a caretaker than a girlfriend.”

“See. I told you you wouldn’t get it.” I move to shove him.

“Sorry.” He catches my wrists before I can make contact, his thumbs landing perfectly on my pulse points. “Explain more to me.”

I’m unsure how someone can both seem genuinely curious and condescending, but he holds it well enough. I pull my arms away and cross them protectively over myself.

“It’s not just taking care of him in a physical sense—though maybe that’s part of it. He’s already showing some health issues, and if he’s alone, I’m afraid he will tough it out. But it’s also having someone to turn to for small things. Like laughing at a joke he read in a library book. Or showing off whatever flower he managed to grow when it’s out of season.” I feel the tickle of tears at the back of my throat and fold my arms closer to myself. “You know, when my dad is in love he’ll write songs and play them on the guitar. He used to do that for my mom.” I sigh. “I haven’t heard him play in years.”

My senses must be lost, because the words keep coming out. “My dad is so kind and I mean it in an unbiased way. He’ll be late for dinner because he stopped to pet every single dog on his way home. Or if you tell him offhandedly you liked something you ate, he’ll go to the restaurant and beg the chef for the recipe to recreate it for you. He’s happy when he makes others happy, and it seems like a waste for him to be this great and nobody else gets to experience it.”

The silence stretches between us, and without being able to read the expression on Theo’s face, I feel embarrassment flood over me. I shift farther away and straighten out my already-straightened blazer.

“Well.” I can’t take the silence anymore, staring blankly at my black shoes. “You asked and I answered.”

He’s quiet for a beat longer. “You know,” he says finally, “I’ve never thought about my mom the way you think about your dad.” His voice is soft, almost reverent. “In such a big, critical way.”

Even though I can hear that he isn’t teasing me, I feel defensive anyway. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he says, confused, like he can’t even fathom how I got to that conclusion. “I’m just saying it’s sweet. It’s clear you care about him so much.” He levels me with an uncertain look. “But I don’t know, Lopez, why are you stressing yourself out over a future that is not even set? What if he finds someone on his own? What if he’s happy alone? What if you don’t even go to Harv—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you right now.”

He throws his head back and laughs, and I feel the corners of my own mouth twitch upward before I can stop myself. So you made him laugh. So what?

He holds up his hands. “I’m just saying, you’re working yourself up over hypotheticals, over futures that you concocted in your head.”

“As opposed to someone like you,” I counter, “who doesn’t at all think about the future? I doubt you even know what you’ll have for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

His eyes widen. “You plan out your meals?”

And here I thought that was relatively normal. I roll my eyes. “Whatever, we’re different people.”

“Clearly,” he says, “you need to lighten up a little. You can’t predict the future.”

“I most certainly can and I’m not going to take advice from someone like you.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You keep saying that. ‘Someone like me.’ You got a problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” I say, despite the heat building at the base of my throat. “I’m just pointing out that I’m not going to listen to your counsel when you live a life I’d never want to mimic.”

He scoffs. “We’re not in a courtroom, Lopez. And you keep talking down to me. So what, I’m not planning how I want my eggs in the morning. I’m much more comfortable focusing on the present.” He gestures to the air around us. “You know, the world we’re living in right now, the only thing we’re capable of doing anything about.”